Demons to Face Part Three: Smoke and Mirrors
by katbybee
Summary: This is the final part of the Trilogy, but I do leave openings for other stories involving my OC characters Gina, E. J., Brenna, Leah and Michael. Guest Starring J. Gage, R. DeSoto and H. Stanley from Emergency! Please Read and Review. I would love to know your thoughts... This trilogy was written ten years ago, and revised just prior to publication especially for this site. Enjoy!


_April 10, 1978_

 _Bay City, CA_

 _Blood. So damned much blood. Everywhere—it was everywhere. Again. He seemed to be drowning in it as if flowed freely across the cement. There were rivers of the stuff…_

Starsky awoke from the nightmare with a cry. For a moment before reality set in, he could believe that it _had_ just been a dream—the worst dream he had ever had. Then he remembered—not a dream. Oh, please, dear God, _not a dream at all!_ Hutch…his heart ached, shattered all over again as memory came pounding back.

 _April 7_

 _Bay City, CA_

The damned thing was, it had been a perfectly routine call, just checking out a report of a couple of pushers operating in front of a warehouse. It should have been a clean, easy bust—pushers didn't usually put up much of a fuss, because they knew their handlers would have them back on the streets in a matter of hours. The only unusual thing as they pulled up was that both of the pushers were women. Hutch bailed out of the passenger side of the Torino before Starsky had even skidded to a stop. Nothing unusual there, either.

Hutch went after the brunette perp. The red-head took off like a scared rabbit, with Starsky close on her heels. The girl proved to be both fast and very elusive. Much to his disgust, Starsk eventually lost her in the maze of warehouse catwalks and loading docks. He had just turned to go back and see what Hutch had turned up when a sound pierced the air that turned his blood to ice. Six booming shots from a .357 Magnum…his partner's gun. He knew in an instant…Hutch would never shoot a woman like that…something was horribly wrong. He raced to the front of the warehouse, and his soul was instantly transported to hell at what he saw…blood everywhere, and Hutch lying right in the middle of it.

"Oh, Hutch, babe, come on; hang on, hang on! Don't do this!"

Starsky called for help on the Torino's radio; then cradled his partner in his arms. The brunette perp had disappeared had disappeared after blowing a bunch of very large, very lethal holes in his best friend's chest, with his own gun. Starsky dimly registered sirens in the distance, getting louder, but they meant nothing to him right now.

Blood mixed with his own tears as Starsky felt his partner's life slipping away. Hutch's face turned ashen as his heart failed completely, and blood foamed on his lips as his tortured lungs ceased to function.

"No, man, come on! You can't do this! This ain't it. Fight, damn you! Come on, Fight Hutch! FIGHT, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH, FIGHT! HUTCH!"

Starsky found himself screaming at the dead man, shaking him, unable to bring himself to believe what had just happened.

He felt someone's hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. He tried to shake them off, intent on getting back to his best friend.

"Come on, Dave. There's nothing you can do. He's gone."

The flat statement, the familiar voice, and the use of his first name startled Starsky into looking at the young paramedic.

"Roy?"

Shock was setting in, and the sandy-haired firefighter was fully prepared—he reached out and caught the unconscious detective just as he fell.

~S & H~

Starsky awoke to find both Johnny and Roy by his side. He sat up quickly. The sorrow on Roy's face was reflected in Johnny's dark eyes. Starsky sat up and searched frantically with his own eyes, finally coming to rest on the gurney next to the ambulance; a gurney containing a sheet-covered form, so still—too still.

A voice came from behind him. "Starsky, are you all right? What the hell happened here?"

Captain Dobey, clearly distraught, looked from one man to the other in the group by the Torino.

"Oh, God Cap, he's dead! Hutch is dead! It was stupid. If I had—"

Here, Captain Dobey broke in, speaking severely, despite his emotions. He knew he had to reach the young detective. "Look, Starsky, this was nobody's fault but the perp's. NOBODY'S! You got that?"

Starsky didn't answer. Instead he shakily walked over to the gurney and knelt beside it. The only thing he could see of his partner now was some of Hutch's blond hair sticking out from under the sheet. He closed his eyes, ruffled what flaxen locks he could reach and said quietly, "Ahhh, Blintz, what the hell have you gone and done? I can't do this without you. You knew that. We were supposed to go out together, maybe in Bolivia or Brazil, but you weren't s'posed to be alone, not here, not yet…"

David Starsky broke down completely at this point. It was Johnny who came to him then. The four men were good friends who had worked together several times before. John there was nothing he could say that would ease the pain Starsky was feeling, so he didn't try. Instead, he simply held his friend, and let him cry.

In due course, the coroner released the ambulance took and it Hutch's body was taken away, with Roy following in the squad. Normally, this particular squad would have never even have been dispatched to this case, but there was nothing normal about this case. They had been dispatched because of the personal connection between the four men. In this case, the care was more for his partner…Captain Dobey and Hank Stanley were also very good friends, you see. Johnny had received permission to drive Starsky home in the Torino. However, once in the passenger seat, Starsky made it clear he had other ideas.

"Take me to the hospital. I've got to be there. He doesn't have anybody else, just me. While this was not strictly true, Johnny understood. Besides, he knew better than to argue with Starsky. It was exactly what he would have done in his friend's place.

 _April 1_

 _(Six Days Earlier)_

 _Chicago, IL_

"How appropriate," the old man thought bitterly to himself. The time for his revenge had finally come with the receipt of a simple phone call, and the opportunity to carry out that revenge had come on April Fool's Day. He had been made a fool of all those years ago, and now the pig responsible was finally going to pay the ultimate price. He would watch his partner suffer a horrible death, and then have to live with that death on his mind until he, too, eventually surrendered or died slowly and painfully. All that remained was to finish a few minor details, and then catch a flight to California.

 _April 3_

 _Bay City, CA_

"Mayday, mayday! Officer down, shots fired. Send back up! Repeat—shots fired, officer needs help!" Hutch barked into the mic as he prepared to crawl back over to his fallen partner. "Hey, Starsk, you okay?"

"Yeah," Starsky gasped. "It's just a scratch. Just hurts like hell, is all."

"Don't worry about it, help's comin', buddy. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Okay, but be careful, Blintz—you're a hard target to miss." Starsky grinned despite the pain in his arm.

Hutch carefully surveyed the surrounding area, a dirt parking lot on the outskirts of their beat. About one hundred feet from where Starsky lay, he froze in shock. If he had taken one more step, Hutch would have tripped a wire—attached to enough C-4 to blow the entire block to kingdom come. His eyes widened at the words scratched in the dirt next to the bomb— _GOOD-BYE SGT. STARSKY—ENJOY HELL._

 _April 4_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

The old man was livid. "You idiot—you shot the wrong one! Starsky is the one with dark hair. You were supposed to wing the blond. The bomb was for the brunet, you moron!"

The old man was so angry, he could barely think. Now what was he supposed to do? He had planned it all perfectly, and now it was ruined. That's what came of hiring incompetents. Well, he would not make that mistake again, and the fool cowering in front of him would never make _any_ mistakes again.

 _April 5_

 _FBI Branch Headquarters_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

"Okay, here we go." The Agent in Charge (AIC) Lt. Morrison, handed out briefing sheets and a couple of photographs to each member of the small group seated in the stuffy room.

"First," Morison said, "I'd like to introduce Captain Harold Dobey. Captain Dobey is with Bay City Ninth Homicide Division. This briefing concerns two of his detectives, who for reasons that will become apparent, are not here. They are not to be made aware of these proceedings at this time.

"Agents Carson and Breen are going to head this case. An attempt was made yesterday on the lives of these two officers." Here he held up two photographs. "The blond is Detective Sgt. Kenneth Hutchinson. The brunet is his partner, Detective Sgt. David Starsky. In and of itself, the attempt would not be deemed terrible unusual, given the nature of their work, and their reputation on the streets…"

Dobey bristled slightly at these words, but found he had to agree.

Lt. Morrison continued, "However, we have discovered the identity of the man who ordered the hit, and suddenly everything has become much more complicated. Captain Dobey, I must apologize. I brought you over here with only partial knowledge of what was to be disclosed at this briefing due to its extremely sensitive nature."

The lieutenant turned back to the others as he switched on a slide projector.

The man in this photograph is the man responsible for the murder attempt on Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson. He hired someone to do the dirty work, but we know that this is our man."

Dobey stiffened visibly at the sight of the tall man in his late sixties, with greyish-blond hair, cold-crystal blue eyes, a grey mustache and goatee. The man was dressed in a stylish wheat colored suit and fedora, and carried himself with an air of arrogance and cruelty.

Lt. Morrison noticed Dobey's reaction and nodded grimly. "This man's name is Joseph Anthony Iverson, Sr. He was formerly a mob boss in New Jersey in the fifties and sixties. He was setting up his only son to take over in his place when the son disappeared without a trace back in 1962. One nephew died in a knife fight in prison not long after the son disappeared. There was a power struggle within his organization in the late sixties, and Iverson's remaining nephew forced the old man out. Iverson himself went to prison in 1970 on a racketeering charge, and just got out a few months ago.

"Apparently through a departmental leak, Iverson has discovered the whereabouts of his son."

At Morrison's words, Captain Dobey blanched, as his eyes widened in shock. This was a secret Hutch had shared only with Dobey himself many years ago, and only to keep his family safe from Iverson. Hutch felt if Dobey knew, at least he could keep tabs on the man, which Dobey had done. He was aware the man was in Chicago, but unaware of the FBI's latest information. Hutch had requested that unless his own safety was at stake, that Dobey keep any information about Iverson from Hutch himself. He wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him. Starsky had no idea, for his own protection.

Dobey briefly let his mind drift over the past years working with two of his best detectives, one of whom had been his foster-son. _To protect himself, Hutch had made up a story about running away from a wealthy family in Duluth, and Starsky had never questioned him about it. Hutch was comfortable embroidering the tale over the years, and Starsky was comfortable allowing Hutch his tales and his privacy. After nearly losing his best friend in Vietnam, Starsky never questioned fate again.*_

 _It was no wonder they had chosen to attend the police academy together, and ended up as partners, both in uniform and eventually as Detectives. The fact that they even ended up working for Captain Dobey was just icing on the cake as far as the partners were concerned. And as for Dobey himself, well._ _He would never tell "his" boys this, but he loved them both as if they were his very own. And he would take a bullet for either one of them. Anytime._ Dobey brought his attention back to the briefing.

"That is our problem," Morrison continued. "You see, folks, _this_ is Joseph Anthony Iverson, Jr." A photo appeared onscreen as he spoke.

He held up his hand against the murmurs that had begun in the small room. A second photograph of the same man as a teenager appeared next to the first—this second one being a booking photo from the Bay City Police Department, dated August 29, 1963.

"You see, our Sgt. Kenneth Hutchinson and Joseph Anthony Iverson, Jr. are one and the same person. As nearly as I can figure, the old man wants revenge on his son for bailing on him when he was a kid. Iverson, Jr. a.k.a. Hutchinson, was only fifteen at the time, and had a pretty rough go of it. Now it appears that his father has completely gone over the edge and is dead set on killing both his son and Detective Starsky. And he damned near succeeded yesterday." Lt. Morrison went on to explain the details of the attempted hit, and what background they had on both the father and the son.

All those at the briefing, though hardened and jaded through years of experience, were shocked at the callous indifference with which the father had always treated his son. His motive had always been his lust for power—never love or anything like it—for his son. Even Dobey, who knew the story intimately, was saddened as he listened.

Agent Breen asked, "What about Iverson's, I mean, Hutchinson's mother?"

Morrison regarded her sadly. "She left the old man when the boy was about seven. I guess she just couldn't take it anymore. He was a bitter and violent man. Apparently, she didn't take the boy with her because she knew he would track her down if she did."

 _Dobey's heart broke for the child Hutch had been, mourning the unexplained loss of his mother, and growing up under the bitter and obsessive influence of his father. He remembered all he and Edith had gone through trying to reach Hutch, trying to break through the self-destructiveness and the protective walls the teenager had built up around himself. Hutch had lived with them for two years from the time he was arrested at age sixteen until he enlisted in the army at age eighteen. A brief and unwise marriage right before he left for the army resulted in a beautiful son, but Hutch had never been allowed any contact with the boy. That was an added heartache resulting after his time as a P.O.W. in Vietnam. Hutch had come such a long way since that time—and Harold Dobey still marveled at the man the boy had become._

Dobey shook himself back to reality, as Lt. Morrison continued the briefing. When it was over, he approached the lieutenant. "I don't see any way Hutchinson is going to agree to this."

Morrison looked at him steadily. "He doesn't have to agree, Captain. He has no choice."

With that, the lieutenant walked away, leaving Dobey to contemplate just how the hell he was going to break the news to Hutch.

Morrison approached Carson and Breen. "You two are going to have to move fast on this one. All the elements are being put into place as we speak—props, logistics, etc. The safehouse has been prepped. We have the medical team and fake autopsy team and report and death certificate ready to go. Carson, your job is to distract Starsky and keep your eye on him. One of the medical team is a close friend of his, and will help you out on that. His name is John Gage. He's a Los Angeles County Paramedic out at Station 51 in Carson. You'll meet him just before all this goes down, when he and his partner come to pick up the blood and the other supplies.

"Breen, you need to make sure Hutchinson knows it's you he's to go after. How you do that is up to you, but there can't be a second's hesitation on his part, or yours."

"Simple, just tell him to go for the brunette." She flung her long raven hair playfully and her green eyes flashed as she smiled.

"Okay, that works." Her superior smiled, then sobered. "Listen, you be careful. This could get rough."

"Doesn't it always?"

"Yeah, guess you're right, but Brenna—"

She winced at his use of her first name. "Michael, please, that was a long time ago. Besides, you're my boss now. Please, let's just let it go."

Michael nodded sadly and walked away, unable to bear the pain in her eyes, knowing he was the cause.

Leah Carson, the flame-haired half of the team, put her hand briefly on her partner's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that it's still so hard sometimes. There are times I miss him so much. It's always harder when I have to work directly with him."

Leah nodded and smiled at her best friend in sympathy. Michael Morrison had been one true, great love of her partner's life. But the pressure of his job had gotten to him and he had started drinking. Like working or loving or anything else he did, Michael never did anything halfway. He drank heavily and passionately. One night after a stupid argument with Brenna, Michael had walked out on her and gone down to a local bar. And there, Michael Morrison made the biggest mistake of his life. He picked up a woman he couldn't even remember later, and took her to a seedy motel and slept with her. The sex was cheap, and forgettable, and cost him the one thing in life he cared about the most.

Perhaps she could have forgiven him if he had come to her and confessed, but no—the one who told her all about it was one of the barmaids, who happened to be a friend of Brenna's, but who was definitely no fan of Michael's. When confronted, he admitted the truth, and at that moment, Brenna vowed never to give her heart to anyone again, never to trust another man again. Indeed, there was no one in this world she trusted, except Leah Carson.

~S & H~

As Captain Dobey had predicted, Hutch hit the ceiling when he learned of the FBI's plans. He was not as upset that his father had finally found him. He had known for years that it was only a matter of time. What he was terrified of was the devastating effect he knew his "death" would have on his partner, and he knew, and he knew there was not a damned thing he could do about it because his father would not rest until they were _both_ dead.

For a short while, Hutch contemplated going after his father on his own, but knew it was just too risky. If he missed, he knew Starsky would try, and he would not take that chance—not with his partner's life.

 _April 6_

 _Bay City, CA_

Hutch went down to the hospital outpatient clinic for a routine physical that he did plenty of bitching about to Starsky. What Starsky didn't know was that the reason his partner had come back looking slightly pale and dizzy was because they had drawn off a little more than a pint and a half of blood for tomorrow night.

The trick was going to be preserving and then warming it to the right temperature just before it would be needed. That task would be up to the medical team.

The latex chest wounds were ready, having been matched to Hutch's skin tones during the physical. Sgt. Breen was the expert in this area, and she would make sure that it all looked horribly, terribly real.

One thing that really bothered Hutch about this whole thing was that Breen would be administering a belladonna mixture to simulate death. If she misjudged the dosage or composition of the drugs, he very well might not wake up at all. Hutch shook away these morbid thoughts as he concentrated mightily on his main task at hand—keeping his partner from finding out what was going on.

At the moment, Starsky was trying to badger him into going to a Dodgers game with him on Saturday. Starsky's current flame was a stewardess who would be halfway across the country that day, and Hutch wasn't really seeing anyone at the moment. Hence, he knew damned well Starsky was not above a little matchmaking.

"Y'know, Starsk," Hutch teased, "as you get older, that babushka you wear when you're playing "Yenta" just keeps fitting better and better."

Starsky tilted his head and flashed the famous lopsided grin that had melted half the hearts at the station (the half, that is, that hadn't already succumbed to Hutch's blue eyes).

 _April 8_

 _Bay City, CA_

Johnny drove Starsky back from the hospital at about two in the morning. They drove in a heavy, miserable silence. The doctors had allowed Starsky to stay with Hutch's body for only a few minutes before moving it to the morgue.

The young paramedic had finally persuaded an exhausted and distraught Starsky that there really was nothing more he could do, and to let him drive him home.

As Starsky had once done for Johnny, John now did for Starsky. ** He helped his friend into the house. Starsky wandered disconsolately into the bedroom. Johnny found a blanket and pillow and bedded down on the sofa. Knowing how close the partners had been, John was not about to let Starsky stay alone right now and pull something stupid. Johnny knew, though, that the hardest part was yet to come. The next few days would prove to be the most difficult of his life…especially when Starsky found out the truth.

~S & H~

"Come on, handsome, wake up…"

Hutch felt a hand pushing his hair out of his face. The next sensation was that he was cold—freezing in fact. He blinked his eyes fuzzily, trying to focus.

"It's okay. You're going to be out of it for a while. It's just the effects of the drugs. We've got to get you cleaned up and dressed, though. It's a long way to the safehouse, and we have to get moving."

It was at this point Hutch realized he was covered in blood and totally naked under a sheet. Sgt. Breen smiled reassuringly at him.

"I hate to tell you this, but you're not out of the woods yet. Remember I mentioned the side effects of the drugs I gave you? Well, one of them is that you'll drift in and out of consciousness over the next eight to twelve hours, and then be kind of fuzzy for a while after that. That's why I want to get you up and dressed before you go out on me again." She handed him a warm wet towel and another dry one and playfully turned her back.

"Hurry up, now. A shower will just have to wait. You can wash your hair later, too."

After he had toweled off and put on the sweats and socks she had laid out for him, she handed him a pair of tennis shoes and watched him carefully as he laced them up.

He seemed to be doing fine, so she felt secure enough to leave the room to get a wheelchair for him. Big mistake! Just as she reached the door, Brenna heard a crash behind her. Hutch had passed out again, injuring himself for real this time. He had hit his head on the gurney as he went down, giving himself a fair-sized gash across the forehead. Brenna sprang into action, calling for a doctor to suture the wound.

Given the circumstances, the doctor pronounced Hutch fit to travel as long as she was careful. He figured the effects of the drugs would keep Hutch fairly well sedated on the trip, but they should give him no problems once they had worn off, even with the seven stitches now decorating his forehead. The doctor helped Breen load Hutch into the panel van, and there were finally on their way. The doctor had reassured Brenna her charge would be just fine. Brenna wished she could be so sure…

April 8

Somewhere on the Interstate

Heading for Flagstaff, AZ

As Brenna had predicted, the drive to Flagstaff was a long one, especially since Hutch managed to stay pretty much out of it the whole way. The wee hours of the morning made driving easier, as traffic was light, other than the ever present eighteen-wheelers. Brenna liked to drive, and her brother was a long-haul driver, so she felt something of a kinship with the men driving those big trucks. She managed to catch a draft behind a reefer, and this helped her maintain her speed for a large part of the journey.

She spent the time idly wondering about the tall young detective in the back of the van. He was certainly good-looking, with his corn-silk hair and sapphire eyes. Her reaction to him had taken her by surprise. Her emotions still played games with her where Michael was concerned, but she was certain she did not love him anymore. She just hadn't expected to feel attracted to anyone ever again, and yet, she couldn't deny that the blond detective was definitely stirring feelings in her she should not be entertaining—especially not during a case.

The detective had played his part extremely well. He knew what they were doing was essential, but there was such sadness about him. She could tell he was doing what he had been ordered to do, but that he hated every moment of it. She thought she knew why. This had to be killing his partner. She would bet that they were every bit as close as she and Brenna were.

 _April 8_

 _Bay City, CA_

Johnny had just managed to fall into a fitful sleep when the terrified screams from Starsky's room awoke him. He ran into the room, realizing his friend was in the grip of a nightmare. He woke him as gently as he could and then held the distraught man while he cried out some of his pain, grief, and anger. This was something he had done for his shift-mates before, as they had done for him, and he would surely do again. After a while, Starsky fell back asleep, exhausted and haunted. Johnny sighed; drained, watching his friend carefully for a few minutes, before he too, returned to the couch to catch whatever sleep he could manage.

 _April 8_

 _Flagstaff, AZ_

Brenna pulled up in front of the safehouse with a sigh of relief. She helped Hutch out of the van and into the small two-bedroom cottage tucked into a quiet, unremarkable neighborhood. Although this location had been used as a government safehouse for a number of years, few people in the neighborhood even bothered to give the small tan house a second glance.

She noted as she stepped inside that the prep people had done their usual thorough job. The place was completely stocked with food, dishes, linens, sundries, TV, books, everything they would need during their stay. She noticed with approval that they had even purchased clothing for Detective Hutchinson that actually looked like it would fit. She hoped he liked jeans, tee shirts, and button downs. The guys that did the shopping could usually get the sizes pretty close, but they had very little imagination when it came to style. Her duffel bag of clothing was brought out of the van by one of the escorts, who then left after they were settled in.

Hutch sat quietly on the sofa during this whole time, looking as if he was about to fall asleep again. Brenna smiled at him and told him to go in, choose a bedroom and take a nap. Drowsily, Hutch obeyed, while Brenna checked out the pantry and started dinner.

 _April 8_

 _Bay City, CA_

Sgt. Third Class Leo Freeman, of the Bay City Police Department's Ninth Precinct's Evidence Storage Division, had a long-standing grudge against two of his fellow officers. They had testified against him several years ago in an Internal Affairs investigation the wound up costing him a promotion and the chance to become a detective.

All Leo had done was make a phone call and pass on a little information to a friend of his. The two detectives who ended up busting his friend weren't too happy when they had to track the friend down because he left town after Leo's call. When IA investigated Leo and called two in on it, they had told IA exactly what had happened. In Leo's mind, that was unforgiveable, and he had been trying to find a way to nail those goody-two-shoes ever since.

Freeman had finally gotten his chance, when a man contacted him at home a couple of months ago and asked him to meet with him. Leo had been reluctant, until the man assured him that with his help, Leo could take down Starsky and Hutchinson for good.

All he had to do was keep his ears open and report to the old man anything of interest regard the two detectives. When Freeman reported for duty the morning of April 8th, the stationhouse was in pandemonium. He knew something major had happened, because he could see the "blue wall" forming. That could only mean a cop had died in the line of duty. When he discovered the identity of the cop involved, it took everything Leo had no to laugh. He quickly left the station, found a nearby payphone, and reported to the old man.

For his part, Joseph Iverson, Sr. could not believe his luck. He was, on one hand, disappointed. He would have liked to have taken Joey back with him to Jersey. But on the other hand, he deserved what he had gotten for destroying his life. Now, he would go ahead and finish the job, by getting rid of the other one as well. He sat back and sipped his coffee with a satisfied smile.

~S & H~

When word hit the streets of Hutch's death, no one could quite believe it. Sure, a lot of the people who knew Hutch down here were on the opposite side of the law, but most of them had also liked him in their own way, and they knew he was nothing if not if not fair with them. The part they found hardest to believe, however, was that someone, after so many tries over the years, had actually taken him out.

Huggy Bear was in shock, and went so far as to close down The Pits for the day. That had never happened before, not even when Huggy himself had been injured and in the hospital. He had just had Diane handle things for him. He figured Starsky would come by sometime today, so he decided to hang around the bar just in case. Besides, he could always get some of the damned paperwork done.

Sweet Alice picked up the morning paper, read the headline, collapsed onto her sofa and burst into tears. For you see, although she couldn't change what she was; Alice had loved Hutch. She would have gone for him in an instant, if she truly thought he would ever really want her. What she never realized was that Hutch really did love her too, though he had realized long ago it was an impossible love—completely star-crossed. But that had never stopped the two from dreaming separate dreams on lonely nights…

While rummaging through a garbage can, 'Lijah heard a commotion up by the newsstand. He wandered over that way, curious about what was going on. When Charles grabbed his arm and told him the news, he dropped the sack of bottles he'd been carrying, sat down on the sidewalk and wept. Hutch had been good to him over the years, and 'Lijah had always considered him a friend. While Hutch was around, the world had never come to an end. Now, 'Lijah wasn't so sure.***

~S & H~

Starsky woke up late that morning, groggy from the fitful sleep and nightmares. He walked out to his living to discover Johnny sipping coffee quietly. The television was not on, and Johnny had not gone to get a newspaper, wanting that to be Starsky's call.

Starsky looked rumpled because, although he had taken a shower when he got home, he wound up getting dressed again, hungry for action, but not able to stay awake. So he slept fully dressed, red socks, ratty blue Nikes and all.

He regarded John for a long moment. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have to work?"

"Nah. I got a couple days off. Thought I'd just hang around."

"Look, I appreciate the gesture; but right now I just want to be alone."

"I know that, and that's exactly why you shouldn't be."

Starsky's temper flared. "What, just because my best friend just got blown away, I'm gonna do somethin' stupid?"

John's voice was even as he looked Starsky square in the eye. "The thought crossed my mind, yeah."

Starsky glared at him. "Well I won't. I just wanna nail those two bitches."

John considered this for a moment and then addressed the elephant in the room. "I don't blame you. But then what?"

"Whaddya mean 'then what?!'"

"Just what I said. Once you catch them, then what are you gonna do?"

Starsky yelled in frustration. "I don't know, okay?! I don't know!"

"That's why I wanna stick around."

"No, this is one I gotta handle on my own."

"Starsky, no you don't. You are not alone, man!"

Starsky looked straight at Johnny and was silent for a long moment. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, pain etched into his features. He whispered, "Oh, yes, I am…"

With that, Starsky grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, almost without a sound.

Johnny stared at the closed door and nodded slowly. He dropped onto the couch with a sigh, wishing he could let Starsky know that it really was okay, that this was all just a horrible, but necessary game. He could only imagine what Starsky much be feeling. He could not imagine how he would feel if something had happened to Roy. It would just about kill him—the same as it was doing to Starsky.

Starsky spent a very frustrating morning trying to get information about the perps, and getting exactly nowhere. Nobody seemed to know anything about them. He knew the people he asked weren't lying, either because they were friends; or because they were terrified of Starsky in his present state.

Leah was watching Starsky's apartment, so she saw him leave in the Torino. She followed him discretely. It didn't take her long to realize what he was doing. He was rousting everyone he could think of for information about Hutch's death. He wasn't being particularly gentle about it. She contacted Captain Dobey to let him know what was going on, and Dobey promised he would get in touch with her as soon as he had the chance to talk to Starsky.

Dobey tried to contact Starsky over the radio in the Torino, but Starsky had turned the damned thing off. There was a lot of chatter about what had happened, and he just couldn't take it right now. He knew it went against regulations, but he just didn't, give a damn at the moment. Dobey then called Starsky's home, and John answered the telephone. He reassured Dobey that he would keep an eye on Starsky, and Dobey left a message to have Starsky get back with him as soon as possible.

Late that afternoon, Starsky headed over to The Pits. Much to his disgust, he found it closed. However, just as he started to leave, Huggy unlocked the door and let him inside. "Man, you look like hell, boy! What'cha think ya doin'? Word on the street is you roughin' up folks big-time! I know you feelin' bad—I am too, man. But, dig—ain't nobody gon' talk if you don't lighten up some."

Starsky grabbed Huggy by the collar and yanked him down so they were nose to nose. "I ain't gonna lighten up, I ain't gonna cool it, and I sure ain't gonna stop till I nail 'em! You got that?!" He released Huggy, his blue eyes black with rage. "This whole thing is so stupid! I mean, I can't find 'em to nail 'em, and my partner is dead, shot with his own damned gun for godsake!"

"Yeah, I hear ya." Huggy straightened his collar with as much dignity as he could muster and stared intently at his friend. "I can't say I blame you, but don't say I didn't warn you. You wanna drink or somethin'?"

"Yeah. Gimme bourbon, neat."

"Sho'," Huggy snorted. "Since when do you drink bourbon? You're a beer man."

"Just do it, Hug. Make it a double. And keep 'em comin'."

It was not until after Starsky had drunk himself senseless and Huggy had put him in a cab, that Huggy made the connection. Bourbon, neat was Hutch's drink of choice. It was then that tough, street-smart, wise-cracking Huggy Bear Brown sat down on one of his own barstools and allowed himself to cry for the first time in many years.

 _April 9_

 _Bay City, CA_

Unlike the day before, Starsky could not bring himself to even get out of bed that morning. It was not just the hangover or the nightmares. He found himself wallowing in depression and anger. Johnny was still at his place, but was sleeping soundly on the couch. He could tell by the gentle snoring coming from the living room. He sighed deeply, turned over, and willed himself to go back to sleep.

Later in the day, he and Johnny double-checked on all the arrangements for Hutch's funeral, which was to be held in two days. Although he didn't want to admit it, he was grateful John was there as they worked through the arrangements.

Johnny also drove Starsky down to The Pits to pick up the Torino. They had a silent toast to Hutch with Huggy and then made their way back to Starsky's place, where they both turned in early.

 _April 10_

 _Bay City, CA_

 _Blood. So damned much blood. Everywhere—it was everywhere. Again. He seemed to be drowning in it as if flowed freely across the cement. There were rivers of the stuff…_

Starsky awoke from the nightmare with a cry. For a moment before reality set in, he could believe that it _had_ just been a dream—the worst dream he had ever had. Then he remembered—not a dream. Oh, please, dear God, _not a dream at all!_ Hutch…his heart ached, shattered all over again as memory came pounding back.

Starsky found himself completely unable to function at all on this day. He lay on his bed, remembering all the time he had spent with his partner, both good and bad. All the times they had nearly lost each other, especially. Although the death demon had always lurked close by, Starsky had never really believed that anything would ever take Hutch down. He had _always_ come back, even when the doctors had said there was virtually no chance.

Depression settled over him like a sedative, and he slept fitfully. The nightmares would have no mercy on him, nor let him have any peace.

 _April 11_

 _Bay City, CA_

David Starsky had been to a lot of funerals in his life. None of them, not even his father's when he was nine, affected him the way this one did. The ceremony was somber, dignified, and in its own way, beautiful. There was over a thousand in attendance—police officers, firefighters, friends, civilians whose lives Hutch had touched, strangers, and family…the family he had created for himself in Starsky, who was the brother Hutch had never had, and in the Dobey's, who loved him as if he had been born into their family. Starsky found he could not cry on this day. Apparently, somewhere along the line, he had cried himself out. He was sure his partner would understand. He gazed silently at the flag covered coffin, not even hearing the words being spoken by the police chaplain. Starsky held a private conversation with his best friend, promising him he would kill the two who had done this; and that as soon as he did, he would be joining him…

Captain Dobey received the flag from the captain of the honor guard after it had been folded. He stepped slowly over towards Starsky who minutely shook his head at his captain. He cut his eyes towards Edith Dobey. Harold Dobey had worked with David Starsky for many years and understood his intentions immediately. He turned to his wife and solemnly intoned the honorable and time-honored words: "Please accept this flag as a token of honor from a grateful community and a grateful nation." Tears flowed freely down the Captain's face as he placed the flag in Edith Dobey's hands. Mixed emotions played across her face, as she had known the flag was meant for Starsky; that he had just given her a precious gift from her foster son. Her tear-stained smile beamed at her son's best friend. For Harold Dobey, he knew there would be hell to pay later, but for now, things were the way they had to be. The funeral had affected him much more deeply than he had expected; the tears were not faked. His heart ached for those around him.

Starsky didn't regret his decision one bit. He didn't want the damned flag, because it meant that Hutch was truly gone, as did the firing of the guns and the playing of "Taps." Hutch was gone. And he was never coming home. He knew this, but the flag would be a constant reminder he just didn't need. He took his place in line with the other pall-bearers as they carried the coffin back to the hearse. He had understood arrangements had been made for cremation, according to Hutch's wishes, with no services after this memorial. So these last moments were truly goodbye. And Starsky's soul was breaking into a million pieces. He had heard the rumors about the two of them. They both had. They used to laugh about them. They both knew they weren't true, but it didn't mean they didn't love each other with all their beings. And they didn't care who couldn't get that. It didn't matter. _They_ got it. ' _Me and Thee_.' And now ' _Thee'_ was dead, and ' _Me'_ was dying inside…

~S & H~

Dobey was curious about the beautiful older blonde, blue-eyed woman who stood at the back of the crowd at Hutch's funeral. She somehow looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. He did think it odd that she carried a photo album with her, but that she didn't speak to anyone or come anywhere near the coffin. Every once in a while, she would look at something inside the photo album and then dab at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Gina Iverson glanced down at the tattered black and white photograph of six-year-old Joey. He had been such a beautiful child, and had grown up so handsome and tall. It broke her heart that she had had to leave him, but his father had threatened both of them if she stayed. He did not want her interference, and he had promised he would hurt Joey if she didn't stay away. Gina knew him well enough to believe every word he said.

She looked at the other clippings in the photo album. She had done her research, and discovered her son's identity years before. Unlike his father she was very proud of the man Joey had become. She knew she could never go to him, because she couldn't risk the old man finding Joey. The closest she dared get was to take an apartment in Bay City and to watch his career from afar. She had taken great care to make sure he never saw her, though she had actually seen him a couple of times over the years.

She had collected newspaper clippings about him and his partner. The first one was about one of his first major arrests as a Bay City uniformed officer, succeeding ones followed his career. The last pages of the book contained the most recent clippings covered his death, the investigation and his obituary, as well as the memorial program.

She watched his partner carefully, and could clearly see how devastated he was. She was heartbroken for the dark-haired young man, but she was also very grateful that her son had had someone in his life that had cared so very much.

Dobey sighed as the woman headed for the exit, and turned back to greeting and comforting his friends and colleagues. Apparently, she had just been too shy to mix with the other mourners.

~S & H~

Gina left the cemetery, her heart aching for all those lost years, and for the pain she knew her son had gone through. Most of all, it hurt to know that now it was too late to ever make it up to him. Weeping, she made her way out towards the parking lot to find a cab back to her apartment. On her way, she sighted a young boy, and her breath caught as she was suddenly transported back in time…the boy looked so much like her lost Joey it was uncanny…She might only be letting herself in for heartache, be she headed over his direction.

Unnoticed to those in the parking area, a blond boy of about eleven years old kept near a group of adults. He knew well how to blend in, to make it seem as if he _belonged_ , although he had never in his life belonged anywhere. E. J. wasn't sure why he had risked more trouble with his foster parents by running away again, but he knew they wouldn't understand why he had to come here today. He pulled the small ragged photo out of his back pocket and gazed at it one more time. In it was a tiny blond baby boy. On the back, in his mother's flowery script was written, " _Eric James Hutchinson, 9/19/66 Kenny and Nancy Hutchinson"_

She had called him Eric Griffin on all his paperwork, later altering his birth records to read, Eric Dean Griffin. He had found the photo amongst his mother's things, along with a photo of his father in an army uniform, dated about a year before his birth photo. The photo of his father was larger and harder for him to swipe, so he hadn't. But he would never forget what he looked like. He couldn't, because he saw him in the mirror every day.

Maybe that's why his mother had hated him? Maybe that's why she had left when he was only three. She had simply walked out the door one day without so much as a goodbye. He remembered a neighbor lady coming in later and giving him dinner. Then he went to a big building with lots of kids. And his life as a ward of the state began. Later, he learned his mother was very much alive. She turned up for the hearing sealing his fate. She turned over her parental rights without even asking to see him when he was four. He was quickly pegged, in his pain and bitterness, as a troublemaker, and so was never eligible for adoption. The "maladjusted" kids, ironically, the ones most in need of stability, rarely were.

E. J. called himself after his father. Everyone else insisted on using "Eric Griffin." E. J. knew the truth and was desperate to prove it. He had been devastated when he saw the headline in the paper three days ago. He ran away from the foster home the next morning. He was determined to prove who he was, even if it was too late. E. J. was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't see the pretty older lady until he practically ran into her. He jumped back, startled. Kind eyes looked back at him. Instinctively, something told him he could trust her, as she asked him the questions he had wanted to be asked all his life.

"Child, who are you, really? What's your name? Why are you here?"

E. J. stood straight and tall and looked the lady right in the eye. "My name is Eric James Hutchinson. The man they buried today was my father, only he never knew me. My mom didn't let him know me, I guess."

Gina's heart broke at this confirmation of the boy's identity. She wasn't sure what to do, but now that her son was dead, perhaps it would be safe to get to know her grandson…

"Who are you here with?

With simple, direct honesty far beyond his years, the boy replied, "Nobody. No one wants me. I live in a foster home, but they only want me for the check they get. They're gonna kick me out soon, 'cause they say I give 'em too much trouble, like everybody else. Why do you care? Who are you?"

With equal honesty, Gina replied, "I am your father's mother; your grandmother. I was forced to leave him behind when he was seven. I had to watch him grow up from a distance, in order to keep him safe. I never stopped loving him, though. I would like to get a chance to tell you all about him. Would you like to learn about him, and maybe I can learn something about you. Maybe we could even become friends?"

Trust did not come easily for either one of these two, but somehow, they both realized they had a bond created by a man they both had never really known. Shyly, E. J. put out his hand to take his grandmother's hand. "Can you get me out of that place?" Gina smiled and nodded. E. J.'s smile was like the sun coming out.

 _April 11_

 _Flagstaff, AZ_

Hutch sat with Brenna, watching a surveillance tape. He found it very bizarre to be watching his own funeral, but so far he was handling it okay. The tape had been flown over by special courier. He avoided watching Starsky too closely, because he could see how horribly this whole thing was affecting him.

He scanned the crowd, looking for anyone unusual, and nearly fainted when he saw a very familiar standing to one side near the back of the back crowd. His mother! He had not seen her in so many years, not since he was seven. He remembered when she had come to his room late one night in tears. She had kissed him, told him how much she loved him, and asked that he never forget her. He had not understood, and had asked her if she was going somewhere. She had only smiled and repeated that she would always love him. She hugged him extra tightly and kissed him. The next morning when he awoke, she was gone, and he never saw her again. Brenna noticed his reaction, and turned off the tape. She held him tightly as he brokenly explained who the woman was. She simply held and comforted him for as long as he needed her.

 _April 11_

 _Bay City, CA_

After the funeral, Starsky parked his Torino in its usual parking spot, and took a cab over to Hutch's place. He felt he just needed to be alone for a while. The whole ceremony had taken a huge toll on him, and he just had to get away.

Leah watched Starsky park his car outside his apartment and head upstairs. That satisfied her for the moment, because she figured he would probably go in and get the rest he so desperately needed. What she didn't see, as she was studying some paperwork, was Starsky come back down and hail a passing cab. He was already gone by the time she looked up, and it was a while before she realized he was gone. Once she did, she drove off, heading to The Pits, to if Starsky had gone over there, or if she could catch a line on him.

~S & H~

Starsky was very creeped out when he unlocked Hutch's door. The first thing, besides the dust, was that Hutch's plants were all droopy and very sad looking.

"Hey, guys, long time no see. You're lookin' a little dry there. Sorry about that. Guess I haven't been thinkin' too clear. Hang on a minute."

Starsky went to the sink and filled Hutch's watering pot and began to water the plants, trying to remember the order his lost partner used to water them in, as well as their names. For some reason, it seemed extremely important that he get it exactly right. As he continued this ritual, he began a conversation with the plants. He felt he had something very important to discuss with them. _After all, they had to be wondering what had happened to their best friend, too, right?_

"Well, fellas, I got some bad news. Ya know how the Blintz used to walk out that door every day and then come back in every night, or sometimes the other way around? And he used to water and take care of you? Well he ain't gonna be doin' that no more. He can't see, because some scum on the streets finally got him. They blew him away and now he's dead, and I don't know what I'm gonna do without him. I know what _you're_ gonna do, though. I'm gonna take care of you. I probable can't do it as good as he did, but I'm gonna try. I don't know how the hell I'm gonna do it, but I'm gonna try.

~S & H~

This was the moment Leo Freeman had been waiting for. He had been watching Starsky's apartment, and unlike Leah Carson, had seen Starsky leave in the cab. Shortly after that, a woman who had been sitting in a car down the block left as well, so Freeman knew he would not be observed.

The old man had told him to ransack Starsky's place, just to rattle him a little bit. He was under strict orders not to steal anything and to be sure to wear gloves. This was not a problem, because he knew his boss was a serious man…deadly serious. He broke into Starsky's apartment and went to work.

~S & H~

After giving all the plants a drink and finishing their conversation, Starsky walked over and dumped the remaining water down the sink. He reached under the sink for the bottle of bourbon he knew his partner kept there. He poured a double, downed it, and walked to the couch and sat down.

His eyes fell on the Ovation guitar sitting in the corner of the room; the guitar that was his partner's pride and joy. He walked over and carefully brought it back. He strummed it lightly, but of course, by now it was out of tune. Somehow it just figured, but it was just so wrong. In one way, he wanted to tune it, but in another, larger way, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted his partner to do it. And that made no sense at all. It summed the whole stinking rotten situation. _He_ felt completely out of tune; off balance. He couldn't make sense out of anything anymore.

Tears began to roll silently down his cheeks as he began to strum the out-of-tune guitar aggressively, off-key and hating the awful sounds and missing Hutch so very much. He stopped strumming as he let his mind travel back to all the good times they had had with this guitar and with another one, the first one Hutch had gotten as a birthday gift (the first gift he had ever received, as it turned out). He got it from the Dobey's when he turned sixteen just about the time he went to live with them. Starsky couldn't believe Hutch had never gotten a gift before. At the time, Hutch had made light of it, but Starsky now knew how much the gift had touched him.

He remembered the amazement on Hutch's face at receiving the gift, and then his determination to learn to play it. Characteristically, within just a couple of months, he had mastered the basics, and over the years had become extremely good. His clear tenor voice, by turns smoky or whimsical, had complemented the guitar well. Starsky was always telling him he could have gone professional. God, if only he had…

Starsk placed the guitar back in its stand, with a silent apology for the bad playing. He sat on the couch and let his mind drift as the tears fell more freely. Finally, he lay down on the couch, and somewhat comforted by his friend's aura in this place, fell into an untroubled and dreamless sleep.

~S & H~

Johnny decided to go to Starsky's place, just to make sure he was okay. When he saw the Torino parked out front, he parked his Rover and headed up the stairs. He saw that the door was slightly open, and that struck him as strange. Starsky was not the type to leave his door unlocked, even when he was home. No cop did that. As he got closer, he heard something crash to the floor. At the sound, Johnny sprang into action. He was through the door in an instant, intent on helping his friend. As he started towards the crashing sounds, he was hit very hard from behind. As he fell, he registered a lot of blows and kicks raining down, until groggily he registered a voice. Fuzzily, a face peered down into his. "Damn, I thought you were Starsky. Sorry about that, kid." And the face went away. Along with consciousness.

~S & H~

Leah was beyond frustrated. Starsky had dropped off the face of the map. She decided to go back to his place. He might have decided to come back. When she found his door slightly open, she drew her service revolver and stepped carefully inside. She registered the dark-haired man bleeding on the floor, and realized instantly it wasn't Starsky. She knew then it was Johnny. She checked for a pulse, and got one. He was breathing, but bleeding all over the place. She then checked the apartment, which was both deserted and basically destroyed. Once she knew they were in no imminent danger, she called for emergency help.

She got some towels out of the bathroom and used them to stop the worst of the bleeding. He had not been shot, just apparently badly beaten. She called Captain Dobey to report this latest development. He was understandably upset, especially as Starsky was MIA and he would now have to call Hank Stanley. He would rather take a beating himself than tell Captain Hank Stanley that he had let something bad happen to his youngest crew member. He might just end up taking that beating…

~S & H~

A few hours later, Starsky awoke, somewhat refreshed by his nap. He looked carefully around the apartment, even considering cleaning it. Somehow he didn't have the heart for it, and he decided to leave it for now, and with a nod to the plants, who were also looking a little better, he headed out the door.

He was startled by the figure of a man in the hallway, and instinct almost made him go for his gun, until he recognized Hutch's landlord, a rather portly unpleasant man whom Hutch, when he and Starsky had gotten drunk one time, had laughingly written a song about. **** Starsky always told Hutch he thought the song was very appropriate. The man was a moneygrubber and his current actions just confirmed the fact.

The man looked at Starsky, equally startled. "What're you doin' here? I thought he was dead."

Starsky bristled at the careless tone. "He is!"

"So when's his stuff gonna be outta there? I got a waitin' list."

Starsky glowered at the man, incredulous at his indifference. Hutch had been a long-time tenant. He pulled out his checkbook and started writing. He tore out the check and handed it to the man.

"Here. That'll cover another month."

"Okay, but what the hell do you want to hang on to a dead man's place for? Don'cha think that's kinda sick?"

Starsky's intense indigo eyes bored directly into the man's blood-shot grey ones. "Ya know, you're a real prince, buddy. And by the way, once I do get his stuff out, I'm comin' back here and bustin' you for city code violations."

The man, predictably, turned belligerent. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Bein' a public nuisance, for starters!"

With that, Starsky finished locking Hutch's door, tuned on his heel, and headed down the stairwell.

Still fuming over the encounter with Hutch's landlord, he head over to Hutch's beat-up old Ford LTD. He always carried an extra set of keys with him, and now he climbed into the rolling junkyard and headed off, not even really driving anywhere in particular.

~S & H~

When Johnny painfully regained consciousness, he was in an unfamiliar hospital bed, surrounded by unfamiliar doctors and nurses. The equipment being used on him, and the smells _were_ familiar, and that comforted him somewhat. He was doubly comforted when he heard the sound of his partner's and his captain's voices floating in from the hallway, demanding to know his condition and to see him. He tried to sit up, to tell them he was fine, but much to his chagrin, no one believed him.

The door opened and admitted the two men he trusted most in the world. They stood quietly a moment, assessing their young friend as the doctors and nurses exited, allowing them a few minutes privacy. Their eyes widened in both anger and pain. Neither handled the injury of one of their own well; and they had all served together for a long time. Their bond ran deep. Cap was the first to speak. "What the hell happened, pal?"

"Believe it or not, Cap, it was a case of mistaken identity. Some guy broke into Starsky's apartment, and tore it up. I came in on him, and he beat the hell outta me, thinkin' I was Starsky. He even apologized for the mistake before he left." Here he let out a weak chuckle, holding his sore ribs as he did.

Roy's blue eyes were confused as he came closer and professionally assessed his partner's injuries. No broken ribs, but some major contusions all over his chest and back, seven stitches in his forehead, three in his left cheek and a large gash on the back of his head that had been closed by quite a number of stitches. He was also suffering from a fair concussion, as well. He was sporting a beaut of a shiner—his left eye swollen to the point of being closed almost shut.

Roy asked, "Why would somebody make that mistake? You two don't look anything alike."

John shrugged, immediately regretting the motion as he winced. "Not sure. Think the guy was bein' sarcastic—he didn't care. Look, do you think you guys can get me outta here? I really don't wanna stick around here. I'm okay. I wanna go find Starsky and make sure he's okay."

Cap and Roy exchanged a look. They knew it was futile to argue with Johnny when he got like this, especially when they weren't at Rampart. If they didn't help spring him, he would simply find a way to escape on his own later on. Cap left to talk to the doctors, while Roy began to help his partner get dressed, although he balked at handing him his torn and blood-soaked shirt. He held up a finger, left the room briefly, and came back moments later with the clean scrub shirt he had sweet-talked out of a passing nurse.

Roy refused to allow John to completely remove the i.v. until they got the doctor's okay, causing John to glower, but they weren't in their district, and Roy wouldn't relent. Messing with i.v.'s was no joke, no matter where you were at. Johnny tended to be a bit more cavalier about them when it came to his own health, and had gotten himself into hot water with the doctors at Rampart more than once for removing one himself prematurely.

At that moment, Cap and a stern-looking doctor came into the room. The doctor was clearly unhappy, but had John sign his release papers, stating that he was doing so only because Captain Stanley had assured him that John would be well-looked after and not left alone for the next 24 hours. Johnny blinked at this, but wisely said nothing. Now that Starsky's apartment was in shambles, he was unsure of his plans for the next few days. He figured somebody would clue him in eventually.

~S & H~

Starsky treasured the feeling of driving the dilapidated old Ford. Sure, he had teased Hutch relentlessly about the junker, but for some reason, Hutch dearly loved the old wreck. Now, it made him feel close to Hutch, made him feel that his partner was still with him.

Starsky drove for quite a while, and ended up out by the empty lot where they had met as teenagers. # Hutch had helped him out when he was getting the hell beat out of him by a couple of idiots. Later, Hutch had even taught him the flying tackle he had used to take down one of the guys. Starsky had refined it over the years for his own purposes by always making sure he tackled his adversary from above, if at all possible.

He parked the LTD; not bothering to lock it, knowing no self-respecting thief would be caught dead in the thing, and wandered the old neighborhood. Nothing much had changed, except the warehouse Hutch had been living in when they met had apparently been living in when they met had apparently recently burned and been gutted by fire. All that was left were some girders and a few piles of scorched cement blocks and cement. Somehow that just fit.

Starsky sat down on one of the piles and let himself remember his friend, remember all the things that had happened to them back when they were kids. Even back then it was "me and thee." He remembered when they had had to say goodbye, when Hutch moved away with the Dobey's. That had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He would never forget the look on Hutch's face when they had met once again, in that hellhole in the jungle, when he and his unit had helped set the prisoners in the camp free…* They had finally ended up as cops, detectives, partners, and life-long friends. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not yet. It just wasn't.

To cover the fact that his heart was breaking, Starsky got back into the LTD and drove down towards Hutch's favorite hangout, a small cove. It was a little chilly this time of year, but that had never stopped his friend from spending as much time there as possible. He often seemed melancholy when they were there together, but Hutch would never talk about it, and Starsky allowed him his privacy, as always. It was just one more piece of the puzzle that was his best friend.

Starsky sat on the rocks by the shore trying to find his balance, trying to come to terms with all he had lost. Eventually, just after sunset, he headed back to Hutch's place, and slept on the couch, never realizing Johnny and his friends were looking for him or that his own apartment had been vandalized.

 _April 12_

 _Flagstaff, AZ_

Hutch slept in Brenna's arms for a long time after he had calmed down. In fact, it was almost two o'clock in the morning when he woke up. He opened his eyes to see her smiling at him. Tentatively, he leaned up and kissed her. She surprised herself by kissing him back.

"Welcome back, stranger," she laughed.

"So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing this kind of a job for?"

Teasingly, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's a great way to land a date."

He smiled. "Well you've got me convinced. It's a deal."

She stared at him in amazement. He sounded as if he meant it. Brenna suddenly realized she wanted to know all there was to know about this man. She had the feeling he felt the same way. Brenna leaned down and kissed him again, this time much more intensely…

 _April 12_

 _Bay City, CA_

Early that morning, Starsky went into the station to talk to Dobey, and caught sight of Hutch's memorial plaque and service medals inside a glass case in the lobby outside the squad room. The picture on the plaque was one taken of him in uniform when he first joined the force. The combination of memories and pain proved simply to be too much. Starsky put his fist through the glass, shattering the memorial, plaque and all.

Dobey heard the commotion, and came out to see what was going on. Starsky was standing there, his hand bleeding, and fire blazing in his eyes. Harold's first instinct was to shout, but when he saw how broken his man was, he instead shooed the shocked bystanders away and ushered Starsky into his office. After basically forcing the stiff and unyielding younger man into a chair, Dobey asked him, "Okay, David, what is going on? Why did you break the plaque?"

"Same reason I couldn't take the flag, Cap. It makes it real. I can't let it be real. Just can't."

With that, Starsky stood and practically ran from his superior's office. He didn't stop until he was safely back in the LTD and on his way back to his own apartment. He needed to shower, bandage his hand, and change so he could hit the streets again.

When he pulled up in front of his apartment, Starsky had the oddest feeling something was wrong. He sprinted up the stairs, and immediately saw that the lock on his door had been forced. He drew his gun and silently crept up to the door. He heard no sound from inside, so he cautiously made his way inside. His eyes widened at the mess, and his heart dropped at the sight of the blood staining the floor. He searched for John, and was immediately relieved when he found a note from his friend explaining what had happened and that he was staying with Roy for a couple of days, and that he would be happy to come and help him clean his place up. He also placed a call to Roy as requested to let the partners know he was okay. Roy had already left for his shift, and John was sore, but feeling better. He agreed to meet Starsky at his apartment later that afternoon.

Starsky had just finished showering and was dressing when his phone rang. Thinking John had forgotten something he picked it up quickly. "Yeah?"

A precise, cold voice said in clipped tones, "You do not know me, but I am well-acquainted with you. I have information about the people involved in the death of your partner. I shall expect you to meet me in Room 703 at the Regents Hotel at Park and Harbor in downtown. You will be there by 4 pm sharp. I will give you the information you seek. You will not be late, you will not inform anyone of our appointment, and you will come alone. The reason for my request will become apparent. I assure you that you will be in no danger at any time as you are not my primary concern."

"Who the hell are you?"

He was speaking to a dead line. Starsky slammed down the phone in frustration. He did not like games, and he had a feeling he was being played for a sucker. Once again, the ball was in the air. ##

~S & H~

After Starsky roared into the parking lot of the luxury hotel, he ran into the lobby and took the stairs three at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. This was not because he feared being late. He was simply impatient to get this meeting over with and find out what this guy knew about his partner's death.

When he reached Room 703, he found the door open. He leaned around, gun in hand to find an older, and distinguished looking man sitting on the far side of a round table in the center of the room. There was something irritatingly familiar about him, and at first, Starsky couldn't place what it was.

The man appraised Starsky coolly. "You do not know who I am, but I know a great deal about you."

"You said that already."

The man chuckled. "True enough."

"What do you know about my partner?"

"You would be shocked by how much I know about him."

"Damnit, just get to the point. Do you know who killed him, or don't you?"

The man nodded slowly. "Oh, yes, I do know. But that will come in due course. I am not going to tell you right now. But I will tell you this. His death was truly a waste. I wished to prevent it, but was unable to do so. I had plans for him, you see."

"What do you mean, 'you had plans?' Who the hell are you?!"

The man seemed lost in thought for a few moments.

He then nodded again and said, "First, please place your gun on the table where I can see it. I prefer civilized behavior. Then take a very close look at me. Who do you think I am?"

Starsky studied the old man carefully as he put his gun on the table in front of him, but was unable to recognize him. Still, there was something…

"Okay, I give. Let's stop playing games. Who are you?"

"My name would mean nothing to you. My son's name would mean everything to you."

"Would you stop talking in riddles and just answer the damned question! Who the hell are you?"

The old man sighed deeply. "My name is truly unimportant. My son, however, was the key to everything. I do not know, in truth, who actually murdered him. I am sorry I lied to you on that point. I wanted him to return to New Jersey with me, to take back what is rightfully ours. Someone murdered him before I had the chance to convince him.

"Wait a minute, are you tryin' to tell me…?" Starsky trailed off as he took another closer look at the man seated before him. He took in the tall, lean physique, the greyish-blond hair, and those crystal blue eyes… On this man those eyes were cold and cruel, where Hutch's eyes could never be cruel.

The man smiled bitterly. "Yes. Your partner is, was, my son. His name was Joseph Anthony Iverson, Jr. He ran away from me when he was fifteen. It took me many years to locate him. I was about to try to contact him when he was murdered."

"So what you're sayin' is that Hutch was your son, and that you don't have any idea who killed him, right?"

"Those are essentially the facts at this time."

"Why did he run away?"

"I don't know. We were never close, much to my disappointment."

"But he made up this whole story about bein' from a rich family from Duluth."

"I have no idea what would motivate him to say that. We were certainly comfortable enough, I assure you, but for Joey, it was never enough. He was never content."

Starsky found himself unable to believe most of what he was hearing. What the old man was saying just didn't sound like Hutch. But there was no denying that this man was most definitely an older, albeit crueler version of his partner. He was Hutch's father.

As to why Hutch would fabricate the rest of it? He would never know. And it didn't much matter now.

Iverson, Sr. stood up and stretched casually. "I am sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have other business to attend to. And by the way, Sgt. Starsky, if I were you, I would watch my back very carefully. You never know. The murderer may just decide to put you in his sights next."

And with this cryptic comment, the old man sauntered from the room. Starsky started to stand and realized that his shoelace was untied. When he bent down to tie it, he happened to glance under the table and inhaled sharply. Duct-taped to the underside of the table was a cocked sawed-off shotgun. In shock, Starsky realized the old man had never touched the table. The only movement of the table had come when he himself had placed his gun on the table, at the old man's request. Close. It had been way too close. Hutch's father was obviously a game-playing psycho. And Starsky knew he was now way too late to locate him. He secured the room and headed to the LTD and contacted Dobey to have an evidence team collect the shotgun and anything else they could find. After they arrived, he headed over to his place to meet Johnny to clean up his apartment.

Starsky was shocked when he first saw John's face. He had known from the note what had happened, but as John hadn't been specific, he hadn't known how bad it really was. John held up his hand at the apology he knew was coming. "Look, man, it wasn't your fault. I'm okay, really. I mean, it was rough, yeah, but I really am okay. Let's just get this mess cleaned up. It's best if we both stay busy, a'right?

Mutely, Starsky nodded, and then took his first really good look around at his home. This had not been a search. This had been willful destruction and someone had enjoyed doing it. This had been revenge. Johnny was lucky to be alive. And Starsky was not going to just let that go. But that was a consideration for later.

After a backbreaking afternoon of cleaning out debris and several trips to the dumpsters, they had the furniture that could not be salvaged loaded in John's Land Rover and taken to the dump. Ruefully, Starsky realized it was going to take a few paychecks to replace the things he had lost. And for the first time, he knew also that he really didn't care. That's when he smiled to himself for the first time. He now had a logical reason for the idea that had been tickling the back of his mind all day. He just had to get Johnny to agree to go back home first. After all, the last thing he needed right now was a babysitter. To his relief, Johnny agreed, once he told him he was doing fine and had taken a motel room. Johnny told him to give him a call at home if he needed him, which Starsky agreed he would. _He wouldn't._

~S & H~

After Johnny left, Starsky headed down to the LTD to go back to Hutch's place. He had just reached the sidewalk when a shot rang out. At the same time, someone slammed him to the ground. He instantly recognized the beautiful redhead and started to make a grab for her. She was the one he had chased in the alley. She quickly reached into her pocket with her other hand and badged him, swearing softly under her breath in pain.

"You're with the FBI?!"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Go get the guy that shot at you…"

Instinct took over and Starsky took off after the fleeing suspect. The perp, although he had a substantial lead, didn't know the area as well, and Starsky, fueled by a manic determination, was faster. He tackled the man, cuffed him and rolled him over. To his amazement, he was looking into the face of Leo Freeman, a fellow officer he had known for years.

 _April 13_

 _Bay City, CA_

Dobey realized that Starsky was now the old man's primary target. After talking to Lt. Morrison, he called Starsky into his office to try to reason with him, to try to get him to hide out for a while, without letting him in on the game. That conversation got him exactly nowhere. Starsky left his office more determined than ever to find out who killed Hutch and what the hell was going on. He wanted to know what the FBI was doing putting him under surveillance. All he had been told was that they had stepped in after Hutch's death in order to protect Starsky from possible harm as well.

As had become his habit, Starsky took a few of the items from his apartment and headed over to Hutch's place. He just could not stay away, and now with his own place basically stripped down, he had a good excuse to stay there. Besides, it was the one place he felt at peace. To hell with what anybody else thought. He was considering moving into Hutch's place permanently, even though the police shrinks thought it was a bad idea. These were the same idiots that had told him he needed to forget all about Terri ### and move on with his life as soon as possible, too! That was partly why he had clammed up on them about Hutch. Mostly he just needed a little more time with his partner. Soon enough, he would let go, forever…He just hoped Ma would forgive him. He knew she would eventually understand.

~S & H~

Now that Freeman had been caught, (albeit sporting a few more dents and dings than were strictly necessary) Morrison and Dobey decided to bring Hutch home, before Starsky went any further off the deep end. They would use the information Freeman had (very!) willingly given them to get to the old man, but they both felt that there was too much at stake to let the game go on any longer. As Dobey had pointed out, the best way to help both partners was to let Hutch face his past with his partner at his side, back on the streets. It was possible for them to face it only together. Morrison reluctantly agreed and put in a call to Agent Breen in Flagstaff. He knew he would be facing Brenna's wrath for having allowed Leah to get shot, even though it wasn't serious, and she was already home resting comfortably. The two were highly protective of each other, and Michael knew he was in for it. He immediately decided to wait until she was back in town before he shared that bit of news. So he was a coward…sue him!

The one thing Dobey was not looking forward to was the fallout he knew would come once Starsky discovered what had been happening. He knew Starsky's temper, and he hoped like hell he would not be there when Hutch first got back—not until the two had had a chance to talk. The bloodshed was liable to be real this time.

 _April 13_

 _Flagstaff, AZ_

Brenna rolled over on the bed and stretched in her sleep. Her eyes flew open when she touched bare skin. Her eyes widened when she found Hutch sound asleep in the bed next to her. God, he was gorgeous! She smiled at the memories of the night before. After he woke up on the couch, they spent some time just cuddling and kissing. It didn't take long for the fires to flare, and they wound up in her room, making love. She glanced over at him again. He looked like a little boy when he slept, with his blond hair tousled all over the place. Suddenly, she realized she was in love, and it wouldn't do a bit of good to deny it.

Hutch, for his part, was lying on his back, asleep. Somehow, as he was just stirring awake, he got the feeling of being watched. As he opened his eyes, there was the most beautiful pair of emerald eyes gazing at him dreamily. He smiled at Brenna as he took her into his arms, and she smiled back kissing him hungrily. Neither of them had felt this way in a very long time, and neither dared to wonder about tomorrow.

The telephone jarred them out of their loving and they stared at it accusingly. Brenna got herself together quickly and answered it. The conversation was brief. She turned to Hutch.

"Hey, lover. How would you like to go home?"

"What?"

"They caught one of the guys they were after, and they need your help with the other one. They decided to let you come home. I'm supposed to take you back to your apartment. We can be there by late tonight if we get started right away."

"Does Starsky know?"

"No, not yet." They don't want to tell him until you get there. He won't believe it without seeing you anyway.

"Let's go!"

They packed quickly, and were on the road in less than an hour.

 _April 13_

 _Bay City, California_

Johnny drove over to Hutch's place as Starsky wasn't checked into the motel he said he would be at, nor was he home. He figured his partner's apartment was the most logical place for him to go. This worried him more than a little, because he knew how hard Starsky was taking all of this. He knocked on the door. In moments, Starsky answered, looking rumpled and exhausted. The hour was late, but Starsky was almost glad his friend was here. His thoughts had been very dark, and he had been almost ready to let go. With John's arrival, he found he was not quite ready yet. He let Johnny into the apartment.

"Starsky, what are you doing here?"

"I thought that was my line." He didn't smile as he said it.

Johnny looked carefully around the spotless apartment. Nothing was out of place. _Nothing_. It was all _exactly_ as Hutch had kept it. He thought about the fact that he had quit driving the Torino altogether, and was driving only the LTD. Hutch's .357 and holster were laid over Starsky's jacket, which hung over the bathroom door. He'd be willing to bet Starsky's own gun was back in his own apartment—the apartment he had obviously not been sleeping in—nor had he ever intended to check into a motel. The pieces fell into place, and Johnny realized with a chill that his friend was grieving for his partner in the only way he knew how—by subconsciously trying to _become_ Hutch. _But how much like him?_

 _April 13_

 _Somewhere between Flagstaff, AZ and Bay City, CA_

Once his initial excitement at getting back to his life wore off, Hutch was quiet. Brenna noticed this and asked him what was wrong.

"It's just that I don't know what to say to Starsky. I know he's gonna be pissed as hell when he finds out what's been going on. I don't even know if it's over yet. I don't like the fact that they were so vague about what's happening."

Brenna glanced at him shrewdly. "We'll deal with all of that, but there's something else, isn't there?"

Hutch ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Yeah, there is. As much as I want to see him, I'm just not ready. Not after everything that's gone down. I hate seeing what this has done to him, and I just don't know how to handle it."

"What if we just go back to your place tonight, and then contact Dobey and Morrison in the morning? Nobody even has to know that you're back yet. That will give us one more night to be together before everything goes crazy, and maybe you'll feel ready to cope with things a little better tomorrow."

Hutch nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me." He leaned his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes, trying to get a little rest.

 _April 13_

 _Bay City, California_

Brenna and Hutch were both very tired when they reached Hutch's apartment. He had been lamenting the probable demise of his plants as they got closer to home. Hutch unlocked the door, startling both Starsky and Johnny, who had been talking quietly inside. Johnny had been trying to convince Starsky to come and stay with him, but as usual, had gotten nowhere.

Starsky's jaw dropped at the sight of Hutch. For the first time since Hutch had known him, David Starsky was completely speechless. Finally he managed, "What the hell?"

Then anger set in when he recognized Brenna and he realized that somehow he had been duped into believing that Hutch was dead—and that both Hutch and Johnny had to have been in on it. Fury crossed his face as he turned on the closest target—Johnny. Without a word, he dropped John with a left uppercut that he never saw coming. It knocked him out cold, and he hit the floor with a crash. Brenna hurried to the fallen man and began to see to his bruised jaw as he began to stir.

Hutch crossed the room in an instant and grabbed Starsky by the shoulders. "Starsk—stop it! It's okay. Let me explain!"

But right now, Starsky was beyond reason. He pushed Hutch away, and tried to hit him as well. Hutch pulled him into a tight hug.

"Starsky, stop it! I'm here now. It's gonna be fine."

Starsky started to yell at him; then it suddenly seemed to dawn onto him that his partner was still alive and standing right in front of him. His body sagged as he relaxed into Hutch's arms.

"Oh, my God, Hutch! What the hell is going on? Where have you been? Why did you do this to me? What the hell is happening?" Hutch smiled a little at the rapid-fire questions.

He tried to reassure his partner. "I'll tell you everything, or at least as much as I know. Maybe Brenna here can help fill in the holes."

They looked down as Brenna helped Johnny to sit up. Johnny was rubbing his jaw ruefully. Starsky crossed the room and held out a hand to help John up. He took it carefully, eyeing the other man suspiciously.

"Are you okay, Johnny?

"Yeah, but remind me never to get you really pissed off!"

Starsky grinned crookedly. "Sorry about that. It was a cheap shot."

John stretched painfully. "It's okay. Under the circumstances, I don't blame you. But I do think I'm gonna head back over to my place. I've got one helluva headache. I'll see you guys later." With a pained grin, he left the apartment.

During all of this, Brenna stayed quietly in the background, wondering what was going to happen now that Hutch was back home and among his friends. She knew that she loved him, but she wasn't sure how he would feel about her. What would the future hold for them now?

Right now she knew that Hutch and Dave needed to talk more than anything, so she walked over to Hutch and kissed him lightly, ignoring Starsky's raised eyebrow.

"Call me tomorrow. I need to go home and get some sleep. It'll all work out, I promise." He nodded, tenderness in his tired eyes.

She looked over at Starsky. "I'm sorry about all the subterfuge. Please don't judge me too harshly until you've heard the whole story. I'll be glad to answer any questions you have after the two of you have had a chance to talk."

For the next three hours, the partners filled each other in on all that had happened to them. Hutch also told the whole story about his past, except for the birth of his son, after learning of his partner's encounter with his father. He left Eric out of the story simply because Nancy's betrayal was just too much for him to bear. That story could wait. Starsky was shocked almost beyond words, and was even more so when Hutch told him about seeing his mother on the surveillance tape. When Hutch declared he wanted to try to find his mother, Starsky assured his friend he would be right there with him.

Starsky started to leave to go back to his own apartment, sparsely furnished though it was. They both felt the need for some distance after the emotional evening. Suddenly, a thought came to him, and he turned to his partner.

"Hutch, do me a favor?"

"Sure, partner. What's that?

"Will you please tune your guitar?"

"What, right now? It's kind of late," Hutch yawned.

"Yeah, right now. It's really important."

Hutch gave his partner a quizzical smile, but picked up the Ovation anyway. He tuned it carefully, closed his eyes; and then strummed it for a few moments, letting his fingers dance across the strings.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the look of pure contentment on his partner's face, and he understood—they were both truly home.

"That better?" Hutch teased.

Starsky smiled. "Perfect."

Without another word, Starsky left his partner behind. Hutch chuckled and turned out the lights.

~S & H~

Starsky left Hutch's apartment, heading for the LTD, which was parked down the block. He was feeling almost light-headed with relief that his best friend was actually alive and still with him. Therefore, he did not notice the car pull up to the curb until it was too late. Hutch's father was in the backseat, pointing a very large pistol at him. He started to go for his gun, but it was back at his place, just as Johnny had figured.

"Listen to me very carefully. Put your hands behind your head, and do not move. My associate will search you. Then you will get into the back seat with my associate. If you try anything stupid, or if you do not do exactly as I tell you, my associate will come back to this address and utterly destroy this building and every occupant in it—including your partner. Do you understand?"

Starsky nodded slowly, mentally kicking himself for his carelessness. The thug who searched him found his back up gun in his boot almost immediately. He was dumped into the backseat, unarmed and in the clutches of an utter madman. He looked over at the old man. "How did you know Hutch is alive?" "A little birdie told me," he said with a smirk. Starsky seethed, as he now knew he was bait for the madman's son, his best friend. And there was not a damned thing he could do about it.

~S & H~

The ringing of the telephone startled Hutch awake and he answered it with more than a trace of irritation in his voice.

"What?"

"Hello, Joseph."

Hutch nearly dropped the phone at the sound of his father's voice."

Angrily, he answered, "What do you want?"

"You will come to the parking garage at 818 North Forrest Street. You will come alone. You will not inform anyone of your intentions. You will not inform the police. You will arrive in twenty minutes. If you do not follow my instructions to the letter, your partner will be delivered to your address piece by bloody piece. Do you understand, Joseph?"

Masking his panic, Hutch replied, "I understand."

"Good, I was sure you would. You always were a smart boy." The line went dead.

True to his nature, after allowing his minion to beat a tied and defenseless Starsky unconscious, the old man shot and killed the thug, tossing his body carelessly into a nearby dumpster.

~S & H~

Hutch raced for the address he'd been given. When he got there, he saw that Starsky was tied to a stanchion in the parking garage. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the blood and bruises covering his best friend. Starsky had regained consciousness, but could only watch the showdown unfold before him. As Hutch surveyed what his father had done to Starsky, he became Joey Iverson, Jr. all over again. Helpless, Starsky watched in horror, as his partner's eyes glazed over into an icy, cruel, crystal blue. His posture stiffened for a moment. He bowed his head, and when he looked up, he looked as he had when Starsky had first met him: hard and broken. Joey let out a shuddering breath.

"You win. What do you want?" Joey asked hopelessly.

Tears began to flow down Starsky's face as he shook his head frantically at his partner. But Hutch was not there. Joey seemed not to even see him there.

"What I've always wanted. You come back to New Jersey with me, and we will take the family back. With you by my side, the way it should be, those bastards won't have a chance."

Joey considered for a moment, and rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

"No, I don't think so."

"In that case, you both die, right here, right now."

Joey stared deeply into the mad glitter of his father's eyes. "I don't think so."

With that, Joey Iverson, Jr. coldly and calmly raised the .38 he had tucked into his back waistband and fired six shots directly into his father's chest before he even had time to react. The shots could have been covered by a quarter…

~S & H~

A few moments later, Hutch ran over to his partner and untied him. "Are you okay?"

Shaken by what he had just witnessed, Starsky rubbed his wrists and stood up carefully with Hutch's help. "Yeah, just pretty sore. I don't think it's anything serious, though. I'll call it in."

He could not take his eyes off the dead man lying on the floor of the garage.

Hutch, on the other hand, never even glanced at the body.

"Let's get out of here, partner, I want to go home."

"Soon, partner, soon."

Hutch just nodded tiredly, leaning against his car as the sirens sounded in the distance, his sapphire blue eyes sad.

It was finally over…

~The End~

A/N: *Reference "Part 2 "Walls" **Please read "Trial by Fire" by khollie *** Huggy is a regular; Sweet Alice is a recurring character; and the touching scene between the homeless man 'Lijah and Hutch in the pilot movie is one of my all-time favorites. **** Reference "Landlord" by David Soul. # Reference "Part 1"Appearances" ## Reference the pilot movie. ### Reference "Starsky's Lady" Season 2, Episode 20


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